


please don't worry, lover, if there's a lack of colour here (it's really bursting at the seams)

by majesdane



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-05
Updated: 2009-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>No. Well, I mean, I don't know. Doesn't everyone care?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	please don't worry, lover, if there's a lack of colour here (it's really bursting at the seams)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [writing books through letters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/734380) by [majesdane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane). 



if you've got the time, we can play a game. it's easy.  
we just see if i'm the same shape as the space you have inside you.

\-- _pleasefindthis_

 

 

 

 

They sit on a bench in the park, passing an alcolpop and spliff between the two of them.

Effy doesn't talk, but it's alright; it's one of the things that Naomi got used to rather quickly, the fact that Effy can just sit for hours and not say a single word, and Naomi thinks that if it was anyone else doing it, she'd think them to be an obnoxious cunt. But with Effy, it's different. It works somehow, and Naomi can't explain it, but she thinks that Effy talking on a regular basis just wouldn't feel right. So they sit in silence until they finish the alcohol and the spliff burns down and she's sore from sitting in one place too long.

She stretches with a yawn and Effy flicks away what's left of the spliff.

She should be going, Naomi thinks, even as she shifts, tucking her legs under her, one arm resting along the back of the bench, hand dangling off the edge of it lazily. It's getting late; the sky's starting to turn a rather ugly purple-red-orange colour and it's gotten cooler. But Effy doesn't move at all, except to pluck a fag from the front of her shirt and a pack of matches from her jacket pocket. She lights up silently, takes a long, heavy drag of it, before exhaling with a sigh and offering out to Naomi.

Naomi can see Effy's lipstick on it, pale pink, smudged. She thinks about that when she inhales a mouthful of smoke, is still thinking about minutes later when the fag's burnt out and Effy's crushed the ends up it underneath the heel of her boot, grinding it into the cracked and faded pavement.

We're always ending up together somehow, aren't we, Naomi finally says, stifling another yawn, her legs growing cramped, and Effy glances over once, one of those long, curious looks of hers that used to catch Naomi off-guard. She doesn't say anything for a long, long while.

And then: You're different. I mean, you're like me, maybe.

I'm not, Naomi says. I'm just. Well, I don't know what I am, exactly. Maybe I am different, but not in the same way like you are. I think you're a special kind of different. Not like me; I'm only different because I give a shit about things like politics and the economy and everything else our generation can't be arsed to even know about.

So does that not count, then? Effy exhales slowly. Being different because you care?

No. Well, I mean, I don't know. Doesn't everyone care?

It's not the same thing, Effy says, and suddenly she's looking at Naomi with wide blue eyes, the kind of blue that Naomi's seen only once or twice in her life, on hot summer afternoons when the sky was just this vivid, spectacular blue and there weren't any clouds to be found at all. That's what Effy's eyes look like, and when they meet Naomi's, she feels herself flush, face growing hot.

Effy kisses her then, right there on the park bench, as the sun had almost set in its entirety and the night air grown unexpectedly chilly.

Naomi isn't romantically inclined enough to think about fireworks going off or sweeping orchestras playing out some sort of grand finale, because a kiss was always just that, a kiss, and there are only two types of kisses in the world: good and bad. Only, as Effy leans across and presses her lips flush against Naomi's own, all Naomi can think of is that perhaps there are levels of good (and bad, too), because Effy's kiss-that-is-just-a-kiss is actually fairly lovely after all.

She feels a rather odd tingling sensation in her toes and along the tips of her fingers, and when Effy finally pulls away with a small sort of smile that Naomi's _not_ accustomed to, her heart does a strange thing, turning over slowly in her chest. And she looks at Effy and Effy stares straight back with those gorgeous blue eyes and while Naomi doesn't believe in things like love at first sight, she is very much certain that one could easily fall in love just being kissed like that.

Effy says, Stop, and Naomi isn't sure what that means, but when she opens her mouth to speak, Effy moves forward with surprising speed and kisses her again.

Oh, Naomi thinks. Oh.

 

;;

 

It's not complicated; sometimes Naomi thinks maybe it should be.

There should be doubts and hesitation and Can-we-go-slow-please and I've-never-done-this-before, whispered in the semi-darkness of Effy's dormitory and under the duvet, a blinding white, on the too-narrow bed. Instead, Effy's hands move quickly up Naomi's shirt, covering breasts with palms, as Naomi arches up beneath her, pressing a knee up between Effy's legs, under her skirt.

And then Effy's mouth is on hers again, as nimble fingers undo the belt and button and zipper on her jeans, as a hand slips down her trousers and knickers. Naomi digs her fingers into Effy's shoulder with a whimper and spreads her legs as far apart as she can manage -- what with one side of the bed up against the wall -- allowing Effy greater purchase.

God, Naomi murmurs breathlessly in Effy's ear, when Effy bends her head to suck on the spot of skin where Naomi's neck and collarbone meet. God, Effy. Effy, who sighs and drags her tongue along the curve of Naomi's ear, fingers quickening ever so slightly, leaving Naomi desperate and straining beneath her.

Effy, Naomi moans quietly, when she comes.

Beautiful, she thinks, cupping Effy's hand with a shaky hand while still trying to catch her breath, because Effy's flushed a rather lovely shade of pink that only serves to make her eyes look more blue, still remarkably bright even now, in the dark. Beautiful, is what Naomi thinks again, later, when they've finally managed to rid themselves of their clothes, when Effy stretches out lazily on the bed in front of her and wraps one leg loosely around Naomi's hip, pulling her in.

Fuck, Effy mutters, and Naomi watches her eyes flutter closed, her hands moving forward and stroking Effy's nipples with deliberate slowness. Fuck, Effy moans again, when Naomi's been taking too long; Effy grabs one of her hands, drags it down between her thighs. And things move fast and slow, are quick and rough but gradual and patient, and somewhere along the way Naomi loses herself completely.

Or so it feels, because the next morning she wakes up to the taste of Effy in her mouth and the smell of soap and strawberries -- Effy's hair -- making her dizzy. And when Effy says Hello, looking at her with bright blue eyes, it's the first time in her life when she's ever felt sure of anything.

It should be scary. (It isn't.)

Later that morning after they've gotten dressed and she's fixing her hair at the mirror, combing it with her fingers, Naomi says, How did you know? I mean, she adds, flushing some. How did you know that I'm . . . Well, you must have known that I fancied you somewhat, didn't you?

No, Effy says, taking her lighter and new pack of Lucky Strike off the nightstand, lighting up.

No?

You never take chances, do you, Effy exhales, and Naomi thinks that maybe she should feel offended at that, but it's said in such a plain sort of way, just straightforward without a hint of meanness. You may have fancied me, Effy says, or you may not have. But what difference did it make, at that one moment in time? Her lips curve up into a smirk. Besides, she says. Besides, you fancy me _now_.

Naomi's suddenly overtaken by the urge to kiss her; she crosses the room in two steps, pushes Effy back down onto her bed, pinning her wrists down and kissing her full on the mouth with such an intensity that it startles even her.

Yes, Naomi says breathlessly, when she at last pulls away. Effy's smirk widens into a smile.

Yes indeed, Naomi Campbell, she says, the fag still smouldering between her fingers. Yes indeed.


End file.
